“The King’s forefathers made this law, it seems,” I returned. “True. Only the King can make a law in Faytan. And—_only the King can unmake it_.” I sprang to my feet, inspired by a new hope. Of course the king had power to abrogate the present law! Why had I not thought of this before? It was an absurd law. The king was our friend. The Crooked One, having spoken so impressively, was now regarding us with marked attention. The look enabled me to recover my composure quickly. “Well, then?” said I. He sat down upon a bench, looking more crooked than ever. “I am Chief of the Warriors of Faytan,” he repeated. “I have fought many invaders, and all are dead. For it is true that until now none has been able to resist the number and power of the Faytans I have led. Your own people cannot resist them for long; yet they are more terrible in a fight than any we have ever met. There are perhaps as many persons in your ship as I have fingers and toes; there are more Faytans than the hairs of my head. In time, in spite of your stinging weapons, which the King says are called guns, we shall surely capture you all. But if there is much fighting many of my warriors will have died before we conquer and destroy the pale-skins. I do not wish to have my warriors die. Why is it necessary? So I have come to you, the King’s teachers, to say this: Teach me, also. Teach me how to capture your people, and in return I will ask the King to make a new law and cancel the old one, so that you two will be permitted to remain in Faytan as long as you live, not only safe from harm but honored by the King and all his people.” “Chief,” I returned, amused but angry, “we could not be honored by anyone if we proved ourselves dishonorable. Will any of your warriors betray you, or your King, to save their own lives? I do not think they would. Nor will we be less noble than the Faytans. But I will give you this answer: We could not betray our people if we would; for there is no way you or your warriors can avoid death if you fight with the pale-skins. Had you made them your friends they would have gone away and left you in peace. But if you foolishly continue to make war upon them, you and your island are lost forever, for no human power can save you.” “A man is but a man,” he returned, “whether his skin be pale or brown. You have powerful weapons, but you are few in numbers. If you could kill half my warriors the other half would finally conquer you.” “That remains to be proven,” I said. He arose from the bench and paced up and down, the light of the torch making him appear like some huge goblin. “So you would sacrifice your own lives to save your friends?” he asked. “Willingly, if it is necessary.” “And are they as loyal to you?” “Any one of them would die to save us,” I asserted proudly. He laughed at this; a low, cackling laugh that was not pleasant to hear.